Poem by Gerald Massey

* * *

No jewelled Beauty is my love,
    Yet in the heaven of her face,
There's such a radiant tenderness,
    She needs no other gift, or grace.
Her smile, and voice, around my heart
    In blessed light, and music, twine;
And dear, O very dear, to me,
    Is this sweet love of mine.

O joy ! to know there's one fond heart,
    That ever beateth true to me;
It sets mine leaping, like a lyre,
    When sweetest strings make melody.
My soul up-springs, a Deity—
    Heaven-crowned! to hear her voice
        divine,
And dear, O very dear to me,
    Is this sweet love of mine.

If ever I have sighed for wealth,
    Twas all for her dear sake, I trow,
And if I win Fame's victor-wreath,
    I'll twine it on her bonnie brow.
There may be forms more beautiful,
    And eyes of love, with sunnier shine,
But none, O none, so dear to me,
    As this sweet love of mine.

1. The Chivalry of Labour
2. The People's Advent
3. Eden
4. Love in Idleness
5. This World is Full of Beauty

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